


watermelon sugar high

by hawkscore



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29603283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkscore/pseuds/hawkscore
Summary: Or: Meian asks Osamu out for dinner and Osamu ( briefly ) panics.
Relationships: Meian Shuugo/Miya Osamu
Comments: 10
Kudos: 103





	watermelon sugar high

**Author's Note:**

> wow, osamei supremacy, am i right? anyway, everything relating to meian's background or character building comes directly from @naughtikalmiles on twitter because her meian headcanons are incredibly near and dear to my heart ( and so is she ). still cannot believe our joke ship from last year has now seen two straight days of insane activity. it's what they deserve. 
> 
> also idk thanks harry styles for the title i guess.

As it turns out, Meian Shugo is not only incredibly attractive, he’s also infuriatingly charming. This would be less of a problem, if any at all, were he not also the captain of MSBY. 

His twin’s team.  
His twin’s captain.  
His twin’s very hot, very funny, and ( apparently ) very interested captain. 

God, Osamu was screwed. 

“‘Samu? Still with me, mate?” Meian sounds more bemused than anything. He regards Osamu with a raised brow, head tilted to the right in a way that reminds Osamu of puppies when they hear some strange, new noise. It’s cute. 

Osamu drops his gaze and washes a part of the counter he’s already been over three times now. Maybe the answer will come to him in the slow circles he makes on the wood, but he’s pretty sure he’s achieving little else beyond ruining the finish. 

That’s not good. It’s not even a year old. 

_Take that, boyscout,_ Osamu thinks, smug, _got one thing against ya_. And about a million more going for him, but nonetheless. It’s the little victories.

“Yer serious about this?” Osamu hums, lifting his gaze. His cheeks redden when he’s met with Meian’s earnest stare. How he manages to seem so damn genuine all the time is beyond Osamu. It’s difficult to look away now that he’s caught, but he can feel the rest of his face heating up and he knows Meian will be able to tell. He’s just too nice to say anything. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Meian has his hands in his pockets and he rocks back on the balls of his feet. Osamu is struck for the first time since he walked in here thirty minutes ago that Meian might be just as nervous as he is with all of this. Somehow, the thought doesn’t settle his stomach at all. 

Osamu shrugs, a half-hearted lift of his shoulders, and the grip on the rag in his hands tightens. "I just didn't expect it is all. I mean, yer -- you. Ya could go out with anyone ya want."

At last, this seems to stop Meian up. His brow is pinched, confusion etched unto smooth skin. Beneath that is a carefully concealed amusement, like he can't quite believe what he's hearing because it's simply that absurd. 

Osamu doesn't think it is though. Meian is everything to want in a relationship. It's almost unreal if not for the fact that Osamu has seen it all in _real_ time. He's humble despite his success, good with his fans and reporters. He handles Atsumu and the team with surprising ease. His light accent gives him a unique sort of charm that no one else can compete with. Mothers no doubt adore him.

And well - listen, Osamu isn’t blind. He’s been at games that drag on into four or five sets and Meian, slick with sweat and flushed from exertion, has lifted his jersey to wipe his brow clean. He’s in good shape, like really, really good shape. Like Osamu is half convinced his abs are photoshopped onto his tanned skin kind of shape. 

The point is, Meian could easily have anyone he sets his sights on. The idea that it’s _Osamu_ he seems to want to “get to know over dinner” is a lot to work out on the spot.

“I just mean I didn’t know ya were interested in me like that.” 

Sure, they’ve been texting quite a bit lately. Osamu had been the one to ask for his number, months ago when Meian stopped by for the first time with his brother and the rest of the team in tow. At the time, Osamu had insisted it was just in case Atsumu got out of hand. A poor excuse, but one Meian seemed to roll with until they’d started back and forth with just about anything other than his twin brother’s antics.

Osamu learned about Meian’s little sister, Reika, and how she’d blocked him on twitter and refused to show him her tik tok account. He learned that Meian really liked to surf and missed the ease of living in Australia, a beach right in his backyard. Osamu, in turn, told Meian about quitting volleyball for a restaurant he wasn’t even sure could succeed and how much he missed the court sometimes. He told him about the bunny he’d been eyeing at the pet store, this little brown fur ball that looked him right in the eyes whenever he’d stop in to see her. Kokoa is the name he’d settled on already and Meian had gotten a kick out of that, even though he’d readily agreed the name suited her when Osamu sent him a photo.

“You really didn’t know?” Meian sounds dubious, and looks even more so when Osamu jerks his head up. “I thought I was pretty clear. I don’t make a habit of flirting with just everyone, ‘Samu.” He shakes his head, but he doesn’t look upset. He doesn’t even seem disappointed. If anything, Meian seems more than humored by this entire thing.

Osamu’s ears burn bright red. He tugs the brim of his hat down over his eyes and drops his gaze to the floor. 

“I like you. I’d like to take you out, on a date. I thought you were on the same page.” Meian shuffles closer, leaning his forearms against the counter and ducking his head so Osamu can no longer hide behind his familiar, black cap. “Was I wrong?” 

The silence between them is deafening. Osamu gnaws on the inside of his cheek. This could be a terrible idea. Meian is his brother’s captain. He really should stop this before it gets out of hand. He should say no.

“Ya weren’t.” He lifts his gaze, running at a hand at the nape of his neck as he tries to ease some of his nerves, “I’d like that, really.” Osamu hesitates for only a second before he adds, quietly, “I like ya too, Shugo.” 

Meian beams from ear to ear. Osamu offers the smallest of smiles in return. 

This isn’t such a bad idea after all if it means he’s the one to pull those sort of reactions from Meian. It suits him, as most everything seems to. 

“How about Friday night?” Shugo prompts, and he seems to have gotten even closer, almost draping over the counter that separates them. Osamu huffs out a soft laugh and lifts a hand to press two fingers to Meian’s forehead, dead center. He pushes him back, gentle only because Meian goes with it for the time being. 

“That works. Text me about the rest.” 

They’ve crossed this line and it’s probably been a long time coming. Atsumu will have a fit when ( if ) he finds out, but Osamu stopped caring the second he agreed to this at all. For now, the only thing on his mind is the way Meian can’t seem to stop grinning at him, all bright and excited eyes. He could get used to being looked at like that by someone. 

“Now get.” He shoos Meian away from the bar with a wave of his hand, “Only payin’ customers get to loiter around. Bein’ cute won’t get ya any points with me here.” 

Meian laughs. It’s a full body, warm laugh. Infectious enough that Osamu has to bite down on his own, but he’s unable to stop the way his lips twist in a matching grin. 

“I love when you play hard to get, ‘Samu.” He teases, throwing him a wink as he backs up towards the door, “I’ll call you later, yeah? Don’t miss me too much.” 

Osamu responds with little more than a roll of his eyes as Meian all but skips out the door. The room seems smaller now that he’s gone, or maybe Osamu is just _that_ whipped; all he knows is it’s been five minutes since they said their goodbyes and he’s already looking forward to that call later tonight.


End file.
